


Endless Game

by plumtrees



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Fluff, M/M, kinda meta idk, seijou four as a J-Pop idol band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7253476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Tooru smiles and looks away from his Twitter feed to his three members. Hajime’s cooking some stir fry in the kitchen while Takahiro sits on the counter, snatching bites from the pan. Issei is on the floor beside him, gnawing at the eraser end of his pencil while his eyes read over the lyrics he wrote for their latest song.</p>
  <p>For better or for worse, this is Seijou—<em>his</em> Seijou—and he’ll do whatever it takes to be the leader it needs.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toffeepotatoes (inberin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inberin/gifts).



> to the person who dragged me into idol hell when five others have failed before you: HAPPY BIRTHDAY
> 
> (didn't tag any "ships" because technically there aren't any? lol idk also references are explained in the end notes. Also this is not racebending, they are in the J-Pop industry.
> 
> Title from Arashi's song _Endless Game_ )

Tooru likes to think he has it easier than most leaders. Compared to how Daichi has to reel in _eleven_ members, he only has to deal with three.

He’s lucky enough to get three that aren’t completely incompatible too. Sure that doesn’t make Seijou as interesting as Karasuno on variety shows, but he’ll take _boring_ over _the living incarnates of the Devil Himself_ (which is what Tanaka and Nishinoya seem to be working themselves up to) any day.

Another added blessing is the fact that his bandmates don’t really seem to need a lot of…well… _leading_ done. He’s heard from his seniors that being a leader is a full-time job, that the leader will be the one to listen to their members’ concerns and relay them to the managers, the leader will always be held responsible whenever a member does something stupid, that they’ll have to be ready to age at five times the normal rate of a human being (ten times in Daichi’s case, it seems). Tooru has taken this all to heart and prepared himself for the worst…

Only to find out he’d built himself up just a little too much.

Hajime, for someone so dynamic and charismatic on stage, is a stick so deep in the mud he’s probably fossilized. He never needs an alarm clock, is always dressed and ready by the time their manager comes to pick them up, always sits perfectly still for hair and makeup and presscons, and gets the choreography down pat only two hours after the steps have been demonstrated to them. And even after an entire day of schedules, the first thing he does at the dorm is wash his hands and plant himself in front of the stove to cook everyone a hearty dinner. Tooru thinks he’s heaven-sent, or at least from another planet (he’s still gathering evidence on this theory).

Issei is, as his name so fittingly suggests, _quiet_. Sure he has a smart mouth, but the snide remarks are few and far in between. Most of the time he’s hunched over sheets of blank staff paper, silent save for the soft hums of experimental melodies and mumbles of half-formed lyrics. The most Tooru’s ever heard him speak is during recording, where he gets the bulk of the lines as the main vocal.

Then there’s Takahiro. 

Well, Tooru figures it’s only fair that he got at least _one_ member that would cause him some form of grief. When he first met Takahiro, his eyelids permanently fixed half-way over his eyes and an easy slouch to his shoulders, Tooru pegged him to be an easygoing guy, was even concerned at first that his image overlapped just a little too much with Issei’s, who was obviously going for the reserved, broody type.

That impression was quickly rectified when Takahiro offered him a piece of what he thought was a matcha-flavored MeltyKiss, only to realize far too late that Takahiro had swapped the creamy center with wasabi.

Takahiro is a firecracker. He laughs too hard at jokes that aren’t even funny, _makes_ jokes that aren’t even funny, plays pranks on members and stylists and managers and staff alike. There are even stories popping up on forums of how he’d give fans ‘his’ number, only for it to lead to some random gyoza shop in Utsunomiya, or a cow farm in Kobe. No one is safe.

To make things worse, he seems to have this magical ability to bend Issei to his every whim, the only person to ever successfully tear him from his compositions to go participate in the havoc he plans to wreak. It probably doesn’t help that they seem naturally drawn to each other, brought together by their shared brand of weird humor. Tooru can only wince at the recollection of that one interview where they spent a good five minutes just bent over, clutching their stomachs in full-bodied laughter while Tooru and Hajime exchanged judgmental stares over their hunched forms.

(Tooru still doesn’t get the joke. Of course there are dolphins.) 

Still, Takahiro makes things interesting, taking up the job of being the mood maker. Issei certainly has no love for that role, and Hajime isn’t quite so confident when he isn’t locked in the motions of a dance, so it’s up to Tooru and Takahiro to keep the atmosphere up during the introductions and little intermissions between songs. And even though Tooru finds himself the butt of his jokes quite often ( _their_ jokes, in fact. Hajime only seems too eager to join them when it’s Tooru’s dignity on the line), it’s still nice to know that he has someone backing him up in the cheer department, running around the stage like an energizer bunny, pulling up Hajime’s shirt and backhugging Issei and holding hands with Tooru.

Tooru smiles and looks away from his Twitter feed to his three members. Hajime’s cooking some stir fry in the kitchen while Takahiro sits on the counter, snatching bites from the pan. Issei is on the floor beside him, gnawing at the eraser end of his pencil while his eyes read over the lyrics he wrote for their latest song.

For better or for worse, this is Seijou— _his_ Seijou—and he’ll do whatever it takes to be the leader it needs.

 

-

 

“Can’t you guys tone it down next time?” Tooru practically begs, on their way home from the SakuraNet live interview. “Please?”

“Why? Gotta keep the shippers happy.” Takahiro retorts smugly. “The matsuhana tag was just recycling old moments. It was high time we revived it.”

“Some GIFs are already up.” Issei comments from the backseat. Takahiro pulls out his phone and, after a few swipes of his thumb, cackles like a deranged hyena.

“Oh gosh, I didn’t even notice I was touching _that_ close to your crotch. Sorry, man.”

“Nah, it’s fine. All in a day’s work.”

Beside him, Tooru can see Hajime’s lips twist into a severe line. He’s the only one out of the four of them who disapproves of the higher-ups’ decision to solidify the pairings within the group. Tooru isn’t quite as in on it too, but he can’t bring himself to argue after seeing all the marketing director’s graphs. Certain ships were just more popular than others, as evidenced by how merchandise that contain the “official” couples sell out better than the ones of any other combination. _It would be good to ride the hype while it’s still peaking,_ they said, and completely ignored any other comments or protests.

Takahiro and Issei were only a little too glad to run with the creatively-worded order to flirt with each other in public. The next fanmeet had them seated next to each other, and they made sure to use every possible moment to steal glances, share water bottles and playful touches.

Of course, he and Hajime tried to keep up. When they got the typical _Which member would you date_ , they chose each other, and Tooru made sure to reach over and grab Hajime’s hand for full effect, trying hard not to wince when the screams reached fever-pitch.

 _Iwaoi!_ was chanted over and over, clear through the unintelligible ruckus of a thrilled crowd. Tooru can’t even find it in himself to be too surprised at the intensity of it. It’s not like he wasn’t aware this would happen eventually. He’d seen this pattern with his seniors too, how the affection between certain members would be interpreted as romance, how their dynamic would shift dramatically to pander to that portion of the fanbase.

It’s not that he’s displeased with the idea of being paired with Hajime either. Not at all. He says he loves all his members equally because it’s the model answer for a leader. He’s not allowed to have favorites. But he’s also a human being with needs and weaknesses and out of the three of them, it’s Hajime who understands those needs best. He knows the pressure Tooru is under on a daily basis, tries his best to never be a burden, to ease it by being the one to scold Takahiro and Issei in public when Tooru can’t, because as Seijou’s visual, _Prince Oikawa_ doesn’t have the luxury of being able to show a side like that.

While Tooru smiles for the camera and calls the fans his _princesses_ , Hajime does small, seemingly inconsequential things in the background that makes it just a little bit easier to smile. He’s always grateful for that, and when he says so in interviews, it’s probably one of the very few truths he allows himself to share.

That night, he browses through his and Hajime’s ship tag, reads several discussions on it in forums, blushes slightly at the GIFs and photos of him staring at Hajime: gaze just erring on the side of absolutely smitten, sitting too close to him even when there’s more than enough couch for all four of them to have a considerable amount of personal space. 

He finds a GIF set of their first win at the Japan Record Awards. The memory is still wonderfully vivid, even now. The shot of euphoria at the announcement their name, the split-second fear when the trophy is placed in his numb, shaky hands, the sudden onslaught of tears as he stumbles through their most important victory speech yet.

He brings himself back to the present with a soft sigh, brushing away the tears that blur his vision. The caption reads _the moment that I started shipping IwaOi_ and Tooru feels his cheeks color when he sees himself turn away from the mic and sink into Hajime’s arms. The other just holds him, angling his head to whisper (Tooru can’t even remember what it was that he said) and press his face close to nuzzle into Tooru’s stiffly styled hair while Takahiro and Issei say their own tearful words of gratitude in the foreground.

The last GIF has him lifting his head, eyes embarrassingly red and puffy. Their faces are too close. Tooru’s nape burns hot where the Hajime in the clip cups it, tugging him back against his shoulder.

 _You’re an ugly crier._ he said then. This Tooru remembers.

Tooru closes the lid of his laptop before his mind could wander any further.

 

-

 

They don’t tone it down.

They have a photoshoot for a designer the label commissioned to release a clothing line for their latest promos. Most of the items in the rack are teal, of course, but Takahiro’s outfits have pink in it while Issei has deep blues. Hajime has earthy shades of green in his color scheme while Tooru gets sandy browns in his. They all get dressed up in the unified white and teal for the group photo before they’re ushered over to a plain gray set.

The director lets them loose first, asking them to pose however they wished. They burn through the typical group poses: group hug, peace signs, crossed arms, leaning against the wall, leaning against each other—

Suddenly, Takahiro slips from under Tooru’s arm to plaster himself to Issei’s side and Issei’s hand comes up to curl over the dip of his back. The photographer looks at Tooru expectantly and he exchanges a quick, confused glance with Hajime. In the next second, his arm finds itself draped over Hajime’s shoulders, pulling him close while Hajime wraps an arm around his waist. He leans back until he bumps against Takahiro, just to unify the four of them instead of looking like two separate couple shots.

The camera clicks twice and they’re asked to try another pose. Takahiro and Issei split apart with a round of laughter before Takahiro drags Tooru over to his side, slinging one arm over his shoulder then putting up a V-sign. Normalcy resumes. Eventually the director gives them more detailed instructions, and the next half-hour is spent with outfit changes, makeup retouches, and picture perfect smiles.

Once they finish their group shots, Tooru gets outfitted in his collection: a fitted white polo that’s been dip-dyed teal and a pair of khaki pants. He’d always prefer brand endorsements to high-fashion photoshoots. The clothes were much more comfortable for one, and hair and makeup don’t take two hours.

He comes up on set to find that someone’s already shooting, almost backtracks when he sees both Takahiro and Issei in front of the camera, Issei’s long arms wound around Takahiro’s waist and fingers hooked in the pockets of his pink shorts.

“It’s not a solo shoot?”

“Apparently not.” Hajime answers, coming up behind him dressed in ripped jeans and a green striped tee.

Tooru resists the urge to rub his temple, lest he incur the wrath of any of the makeup artists. Beside him, Hajime is tapping his sneakers against the concrete, looking thoughtful.

“If it bothers you, I could talk to the managers about it.”

Tooru turns his head to face Hajime’s stern expression. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern and Tooru silently curses himself for not hiding his discomfort better.

“Making the fans happy and making sure we do our best to market ourselves are part of the job. It wouldn’t be professional to complain just because I can’t deal with an hour of playing as your boyfriend.”

He finishes the statement with a playful little wink. He’d done it before in all the dramas where he’s the male lead, pretending to fall head over heels with someone, molding his face and gestures into those gentle, intimate little moments that only lovers are supposed to share. It’s easy enough, with practice, even easier if he’s paired up with someone he actually _likes_. Hajime just so happens to fit the bill.

Something clicks in his head and he warily asks, “Unless _you’re_ the one who’s not okay with it?”

Hajime rolls his eyes. “I danced half-naked with Takahiro during our last concert. With water spraying down on us. After that, I think it’ll take more than cuddling to bother me.”

Tooru’s cheeks burn at the memory of his embarrassing hard-on while watching the performance on DVD. No wonder the crowd was louder than usual. He clears his throat and tries hard to erase the mental images of Hajime and Takahiro dripping wet and half-naked and grinding up against each other—

He nearly jumps a foot in the air when the manager taps his shoulder, informs them that Takahiro and Issei are down to their last three shots. Tooru nods shakily. Three clicks of the camera later, Hajime looks up at him with a devious smirk and grabs his wrist.

“Let’s go show them why IwaOi is the most popular ship.”

 

-

 

“I don’t get it!” Takahiro whines, flopping backwards onto the couch and flailing his legs like a child. A stylist flits by to scold him for messing up his hair and he obediently sits up, still scowling. “How did you guys in get a 68% in the ship poll?!”

They’re taking a break in the middle of shooting the MV, a week after the pictures were released. As an added gimmick, the designer label even included a poll to decide the _Best Couple_ , with the winning pair having all their photos from the shoot compiled in a special photobook.

“I mean look at us! It was practically a pre-nuptial shoot! We look so in love! I even called him _aibou_ in a variety show two weeks ago!” Takahiro continues, browsing through the album. “They picked the wrong photos. What happened to the one where Issei was giving me a backhug? This competition is rigged, I tell you.”

“Another point of this photoshoot is to showcase the _clothes_.” Hajime speaks up, not even stopping from where he’s practicing their new choreography. “How can a backhug properly show off what Issei was wearing?”

Takahiro only puffs out one cheek, silently fuming.

“Also,” Hajime continues and all of them look up, “Maybe the reason the fans aren’t so convinced is because you make it look so obvious.”

Takahiro tilts his head. “Excuse me?”

“You make it look too over-the-top, so they think it’s just fanservice.”

“Are you saying your interactions look more genuine that ours?!” Takahiro demands, quickly standing up. Tooru wisely refrains from reminding him that it _is_ just fanservice. “Hajime are you starting a ship war with me?”

Hajime finishes off the dance with a turn, pointing a finger to the ceiling before glancing at Takahiro. “If you have time to complain about how your ship has less fans, then you have time to go over the new choreo with me.”

Takahiro scoffs and tugs up his sleeves. “You’re on, lead dancer.”

“Official profile already crowned me as the main dancer, you sore loser.”

“Not for long, shrimp.”

Tooru just rolls his eyes as they go back and forth again with the _lead dancer_ and _main dancer_ titles. Why they fight for that particular one when Takahiro already has his main rapper designation is a mystery to him. He leans back against the couch and shuffles close to Issei to prop his chin on his shoulder, watching him play a rhythm game on his phone.

“Guys!” Takahiro suddenly screeches from the other end of the studio, causing Issei to flinch and lose his 5-digit combo. “I just had an idea! The ship to end all ship wars!”

Issei glares darkly at him. Tooru takes one look at Hajime’s defeated expression and mentally prepares himself.

“Seijou OT4!”

 

-

 

Tooru sighs inwardly.

On the outside, he keeps the thousand-watt smile firmly in place, waving at the sea of fans holding up teal glowsticks, trying to ignore how the lights and screams only make his headache worse. On the other end of the stage, Issei and Takahiro hook their arms around each other’s waists and bring their free arms up to form a heart over their heads, setting off a painfully high-pitched round of screams.

Hajime quirks a smile behind the mic, lips still busy mouthing over the lyrics of his solo. They only ever sing live for the ballads, and it’s not like any of their fans expect them to sing live at all, with how much more focused they are on dancing and prancing all around the stage dishing out as much fanservice the three-hour concert will allow.

He takes his cue and leaps on Hajime’s back as soon as his long note finishes and the crowd goes even wilder.

He brings his own mic over his lips to mime singing along to his part. Hajime is steady beneath him, hands hooked beneath his legs even though Tooru’s completely capable of staying perched on his back even without his help. Still, he allows Hajime to take some of his weight. He steers Hajime around until he’s at the perfect angle for the flex of his biceps to be captured by the camera.

Takahiro’s voice joins his for their brief duet, the freshly-dyed pink of his hair charging towards him. He’s also piggybacked by Issei, one hand holding the mic to his face while the other is held up in a V-sign. All four of them converge in the middle of the stage, and both him and Takahiro hop down from their respective steeds just in time for the final repeat of the chorus.

They give an energetic finish, Takahiro passionately playing an invisible drum set to match the last beats of the song. Issei throws a few flying kisses into the crowd and the cute display from their most aloof member is enough to send the people in the front row into a frenzy. Tooru winces when he sees that one fan is already crying, waving a banner with Issei’s name with renewed vigor.

Tooru prepares his dry mouth to start up their rehearsed skit for the intermission, prays that the bile won’t force itself up his throat the second he opens his mouth even though it feels like that’s exactly what’s going to happen. The throbbing has evolved into a stabbing pain. He can’t even bring himself to look up at the crowd, keeping his head low lest the spotlights aggravate his nausea. 

Suddenly, an opened water bottle is being shoved just under his nose. He nearly jumps back but it follows him until his lips are closed around the rim. Whoever’s holding it tilts it back enough for water to flood his mouth and he swallows, for lack of anything better to do. It helps. His head is a bit clearer. The lights aren’t burning holes into his eyes.

He finally regains enough sense to take the bottle with his own hands. He angles his head up enough to see who it is and, predictably, it’s Hajime, lips downturned in what is very quickly becoming his trademark expression. Tooru smiles reassuringly, even though it feels so very fake, even though he feels that his mask is going to crack where the lines sink into his face. Some vague part of him knows that this exchange is probably going to be floating around the internet later in GIF form coupled with a few hundred words declaring how they’re _real_ but he quickly shoves it away, knows it’s not the time or place to worry about that.

He turns to the crowd again, to the fifty thousand people who filled up Tokyo Dome just to see them perform, and smiles as best as he possibly can.

 

-

 

That night he wakes up and the room is too hot. He tries to push away the blanket only to find that he isn’t even using it. Every single bone aches, the back of his throat feels scraped raw. He whines, paws at the sheets of his bed—

Something _cold_ is pressed against his forehead. He flinches but a hand cups his cheek, tugging his head back onto his pillow. Something pokes his ear and there’s a _beep_ before it retreats.

“39. Shit.” A deep voice mutters.

“I’ll tell the manager to call the doctor over.” A curly-haired blob floats along his line of sight. “I’ll tell him to cancel Tooru’s schedules for later too.” 

He groans and tries to sit up, but a hand pushes him back down with embarrassing ease.

“Stay down, fearless leader.” Takahiro tuts. “You’re sick.”

“I’m gonna go make him some soup. I don’t think he can take any meds on an empty stomach.” Hajime says and another weight lifts off the bed. Tooru sighs, wonders how much shit he’s going to get for not showing up to the radio interview later. They’re going to have to release a statement, his mom is going to worry about him again—

“If you’re not feeling well, you can tell us, you know.”

Tooru’s eyes squint, trying to figure out which is the real Takahiro from his spinning vision.

“Just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be weak around us. You’re our team baby too, after all.”

Tooru snorts and brings up an arm to cover his face, because three Takahiros giving him that kicked puppy face isn’t something he has the strength to deal with. Takahiro takes the towel on his forehead away and it comes back a few seconds later refreshingly cool.

Issei walks back into the room with news that Tooru won’t be joining them for three days, Hajime follows with a steaming bowl of chicken soup that warms him in all the right places. The doctor diagnoses him with the flu and Takahiro volunteers to stay up to watch over him.

He gets his reward when he manages to film Tooru’s medication-fueled rant on _why milk bread is the best thing to grace the earth since aliens_ that somehow segues to _why is Hajime’s body so perfect when he puts in less time at the gym, Taka it’s not fair_. He posts the first half of the video on Twitter and _#GetWellSoonTooru_ trends number one for a few hours. A couple hundred tumblr posts pop up dedicated to the news that he apparently believes in aliens, reactions ranging from adoring coos to affectionate calls of _Ouji-sama, you dork_.

When he’s feeling much better and can actually lift his arms without feeling pinpricks of pain all across his joints, he beckons Takahiro close enough to strangle him and swears to never speak to him ever again for ruining his Prince image.

He forgives him two days later when they get boxes of milk bread from various snack companies that offer the treat, as gratitude for the sudden spike in sales after Tooru’s little unofficial endorsement.

 

-

 

“It’s so cute how they took care of you when you were sick.”

Tooru laughs, the clear sound of it playing back from the headphones he has on. “Iwa-chan, Makki, and Mattsun are always like that behind-the-scenes. Most fans scold them for bullying me on camera, but actually they take very good care of me.”

The DJ hums thoughtfully, quietly flipping to the next page of the script.

“The last time they were here, Iwaizumi-san actually said something about how your brand of leadership is the reason Seijou gets along as well as it does. And Hanamaki-san added ‘we have the best leader’. Do you have anything to say about that?”

“Well,” Tooru smiles, perfectly genuine. “I have the best members.”

**Author's Note:**

> MeltyKiss – a brand of chocolates by Meiji, they’re cubes of varying flavors coated on the outside with chocolate. My brother once went through all the effort of making a wasabi version to prank me with.  
> The dolphin joke – _iruka ga iru ka?_ is a Japanese wordplay that literally means _Is there a dolphin?_  
>  Aibou – Partner. It didn’t really sound right in English so I just went with this one (fun fact: Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s stage actors have used this word several times to refer to each other)
> 
> I wrote this so quickly because it just refused to let me go until I did, I'm sorry. I also wanted it to be longer because I have so many headcanons for Seijou in IdolAU but I had to control myself
> 
> low-key in idol hell it's just not obvious from my [tumblr](http://plumtreeforest.tumblr.com)


End file.
